


For Six Weeks

by Anonymous



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Not Beta Read, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: For six weeks every year, Bruce wayne takes a vacation and Batman leaves the crimefighting to his family.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Slade Wilson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 70
Collections: Anonymous





	For Six Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> Had to distract myself with something in these rough times. I don't really know how to write fics (never done it before) and english is not my first language.

For six weeks every year, Bruce Wayne takes a vacation. For six weeks, Batman leaves the crime fighting to his children and allies. Usually during the cold of winter, when even Gothamite criminals would rather stay indoors than freeze their asses off in the icy streets. Once you’ve been arrested because you slipped on a patch of ice, it’s hard to live it down.

Most people would probably take their vacation in the summer, but rising temperature usually comes with a rise in crime and no matter how badly Bruce needs this reprieve, it’s never enough to get him to completely turn a blind eye to what goes on in Gotham. If he didn’t have people to rely on to make up for his absence, he wouldn’t leave at all.

No matter how badly he longs for those special six weeks.

===

When Bruce arrives at the cabin, he knows right away that he’s not the first to arrive. Mostly because there’s a tragic excuse of a car parked in its usual spot. Or well. It’s usually different cars, all of them so wildly different from each other that Bruce is absolutely certain they were probably all stolen.

Especially the year that he found a cop car parked in the spot. He’d had to put his foot down with that one, a man had his limits.

The snow crunches softly under his feet as he makes his way towards the front door, so unlike the soupy slush of Gotham. Bruce shoots the dilapidated car one last bemused look before pulling open the door. Warmth hits him immediately, making his shoulders relax a fraction and something in his chest that always seems to be coiled up tight, comes loose.

This cabin was a haven. A place with a single firm rule. For six weeks a year, secret identities were left at the door. Inside he would be Bruce, just Bruce. Duties, responsibilities and old rivalries… It was all left at the door.

Bruce closed the door before he let all of the heat out, no doubt incurring the wrath of the other occupant of the cabin. He toed out of his shoes, ignoring the fact that he was probably scuffing the expensive leather, and shrugged out of his coat. He had forgotten his gloves, again, but already had excellent plans for where to warm his hands.

He padded through the cabin in his socks, enjoying the heated floor. The cabin wasn’t overly large, but it had quite a few expensive amenities. Including a fairly hidden, but high-tech, security system. Not enough to rival anything he had at the manor, but enough to ensure safety. Including perimeter sensors, so he was mildly surprised at not having been met at the door.

Bruce hummed softly, his heart rate picking up as he pushed open the bedroom door. Slade was already watching him, eye bleary with interrupted sleep. He looked so incredibly unlike the dangerous Deathstroke when he was stretched out on his side in a bed wearing just sweatpants, hair mussed and expression cranky.

“Took you long enough”, he murmured and his attempt to sound admonishing was immediately foiled by a yawn wide enough that Bruce could hear his jaw pop.

“I got held up,” Bruce replied, wasting no time in climbing onto the bed. In fact, he was desperate. Not for sex, but just a simple need to touch. To hold.

He practically fell face-first into Slade’s embrace, throat suddenly tight. Every time it felt like coming home. Slade was warm and solid against him, and Bruce couldn’t help but rub his icy nose on his neck.

“Batman is a lot less scary when you know he’s got a fucking popsicle for a nose,” Slade gritted out. His voice was still rough from sleep, but there was amusement in there. Warmth.

Bruce retaliated by sliding both hands into his sweatpants, grabbing two handfuls of ass in chilly hands. It was a nice ass. Not bad for warming his hands on either, not with Slade always running so hot.

Slade gave a grunt and immediately rolled them over so Bruce was on top of him, now with his hands firmly caught between his body and the mattress. Bruce chuckled, the corners of his lips turning up briefly before managing to wiggle his hands free again so he could settle in more comfortably against Slade’s chest.

Silence fell again and Bruce’s mood fell with it. Slade was running his fingers idly up and down Bruce’s arm, knowing what was on his mind. It was the same every year.

For six weeks every year, Bruce would share a cabin with Slade. There would be no Batman, no Deathstroke. No murder and no justice to be dealt. He could ignore the fact that Slade was a wanted criminal, that he himself was hypocrite for enjoying this. For wanting Slade at all.

He wanted this all the time, Slade’s rumbling laugh and his cocky grin, but some part of him would never be able to forget the lives the mercenary has taken and the hurt he has caused. Most of all, he can’t get over the fact that it feels like a disservice to the mission he has taken upon himself, a disservice to the people he tries to protect, if he suddenly turns a blind eye to Deathstroke simply because of his own feelings.

But perhaps… For just six weeks, he can allow himself this. A bittersweet taste of what could have been, maybe. In another life. A taste that will always be part poison, but which he could never give up.

“It’s never going to be enough,” he says quietly. The fingers stroking his arm stills and Slade turns to look at him, before pulling him even closer and pressing a kiss to his brow.

“... I know.”


End file.
